


I hope some day I'll make it out of here

by raleighsbecket



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Archie Andrews Needs a Hug, Betty Cooper Needs a Hug, Bisexual Archie Andrews, Escort Service, F/M, Gothic, Hugs, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Laughter During Sex, Loneliness, Making Love, Minor Archie Andrews/Geraldine Grundy | Jennifer Gibson, Murder, Past Sexual Abuse, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Sex Work, Smut, Suicidal Thoughts, Trans Character, Trauma, Vulnerability, they're in love they just don't know it, where's the tag for moc archie because i refuse to deal with riverdale's whitewashing bs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-18 14:42:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20640854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raleighsbecket/pseuds/raleighsbecket
Summary: She unfurls her legs from beneath her, leans over to the wire table and pours out two shots. "Let's play two truths and a lie."It catches him off guard, but he doesn't question her. "Okay. What's the catch?""You drink if I guess the lie. I drink if I get it wrong." she says, pausing for a moment. "You can drink if you don't want to answer at all.""Seems fair." he says with a nod. "Who's first?"





	I hope some day I'll make it out of here

**Author's Note:**

> This has been a fic that I've been tinkering on for a while, a fic I've fretted over posting, but I decided to bite the bullet and go for it. I'm only here for your opinions on the fic, nothing else. Thanks.

His knees are scraped from how they've been pressed and rubbed against the tiles around the pool. A heavy had has embedded itself into his red hair, thick fingers grasping at his scalp so as to better control him. 

It always depends with these guys. Sometimes they want control, sometimes they want to relinquish it. Most of the time, they just want the hot young guy to be there, ready at their beck and call no matter what. Archie has learned that he just has to give them whatever they want and then he can get the hell out of there, money in hand. He's just here because he needs to pay rent, to get gas for his run down car, and food on the table. He isn't here because he _enjoys_ it - though, he can't deny that he does sometimes - it's a last resort, and he's been doing this since he was sixteen anyway, he knows what he's doing.

So, when the john comes, thick and sloppily down his throat, Archie is almost relieved that it's _finally_ over. Even when he pulls out slowly, in a way that lets the come drip from Archie's mouth, down his bare chest. This particular john has a fascination with his body, the toned torso, the muscles, and he's always wanting to splurt his seed over it, to cover Archie in it, and every time, Archie says no. And every time, he finds some elaborate way to do it anyway. Archie would have been impressed if he wasn't so annoyed but it.

Yeah, _just_ annoyed. He's given up fighting these people. 

"Ahh," the john breathes out as he drops down on the lounge chair, pulling the sides of his robe over his stomach. "Good as always, Red."

Always Red. Never Archie, because he doesn't, hasn't, and will _never_ give them his name. 

"Yeah, I guess so." Archie says, swiping a hand over his mouth to wipe away the mixture of saliva and come. "My money?"

The john tuts. "You're always in a rush to leave, Red." he says. "Why don't you tell me more about yourself?"

Archie raises one dark eyebrow. "That'll be an extra fifty."

It's mostly a joke, but he watches as the john slips a fifty dollar note from his pocket and adds it to the stack he'd used to tease Archie when he'd just arrived. He wasn't too surprised. These guys hated themselves enough to spend the $250 he charged them. He was sure there was more expensive, more experienced escorts they could have gone to, but he's more of a freelancer, who has no ties and no reason to blackmail the CEO of some dumb business. The others might, so he's a safe bet. Of course the kid who just wants to survive is a safe bet.

"So?" The john urges.

"Uhh," Archie doesn't know where to start; he can feel the blood pool beneath his scraped knee. "Twenty one. Bi. 5'9". Six inches."

The john laughs. "No, Red, where are you from?"

"LA." Archie answers without pausing.

"That's a lie." The john reaches over and lights up a cigarette. "You don't have the LA look to you. You're too... small town."

"There's small towns in LA." Archie points out.

The john nods in agreement. "You're more _All American_ small town. So, where are you from?"

Archie runs a tongue over his tongue over his bottom lip. "I could just lie to you forty nine times."

"Are you that tenacious?" The john asks.

"You don't even know my real name, _Peter_," Archie says, eyebrows cocking up as he speaks the name. "That tells you how tenacious I am."

The john, Peter, takes a long drag of his cigarette, seemingly taking in Archie's words before he picks up the stack of money and hands it to Archie. "Get the fuck out of here."

No formality. Just what he expects. 

Archie pulls himself up from where he was still kneeling on the ground and takes the money. He picks up his discarded t-shirt as he does so, heading for the gate that separates the pool from the rest of the world. The john always does it here, so that no one sees him. This includes the staff, the people who might whisper behind his back as the red headed boy makes his way through the house. They'd never done anything inside. Always outside, always by the pool, always at night.

And maybe that's a good thing, because as he nears his car, he realises that he doesn't exactly fit in with this _white_ surburban neighbourhood. It's all big, fancy houses and rich people who get scared when they see someone like him parked in their street. So, he's quick to get into his car, quick to pull his shirt back on and throw the money into the dash box - just for safe keeping until he can get to a place where he can safely deposit it - and then he's driving away. It's nice, to wind down the bending roads and see the sparkling lights of LA lay out before him, the shine and shimmer of a city that once beckoned to him, the soft words of a woman who promised him _everything_ he could ever want, should he just pack his bags and run away with her.

What a fucking load of bullshit that had been. Jennifer had ran as soon as she found the next illegal teenage boy she could fuck. But, of course, that hadn't been until _after_ she had left him totally fucked up. _Nice one, Mrs G!_

After driving for the better part of an hour, Archie finds a place to pull into; the brightly lit neon sign of the diner promises food that is long gone, never to be put upon his tastebuds again, a set of friends he'll never see again, and a life that is no longer his. He often wonders how his father is doing, if he misses him, if he got the note and stopped worrying about him, if he _ever_ stopped that is. Archie sometimes wonder if he could head back to Riverdale _just_ to see his father again. He wouldn't admit it out loud, but he misses the man more than he wants to say; he wants to hear his dad promise him that it'll all be okay. 

But it's too late now. It was too late the minute she pressed the gun into his hand.

Parked outside of the diner, Archie takes a moment to just unwind from the previous hour or so. He counts the money, only then noticing that he's short around a hundred bucks, and that was probably the reason why the john was so eager to give him the extra fifty. Technically, he's only short about fifty bucks, which means it'll be a tight stretch this week unless -

His phone buzzes in his pocket. Getting it out, Archie sees it's a text notification from an unknown number. He isn't so bothered by them now, seeing as he's always getting johns texting him from the ads he puts out. This one is no different too, except it's different in so many ways. It's more formally written, less desperate in feel, and it most definitely isn't the writing of someone who's eager for some hot young thing to fuck or be fucked by.

_I saw your ad. I'd like to offer you $400. B._

Whoever B is, Archie knows the guy must be rich. But it seems sketchy, his highest price is $300 and that's for any... _weird_ stuff, that he'd rather not name right now, and that's simply because he undervalues how much he's worth, as many johns would tell him. Archie knows he isn't worth much but B hasn't even told him what he wants from their meet up, and even if he hates himself, Archie needs to keep himself safe, because he can see his dad wear that signature _Fred Andrews' I'm not angry, just disappointed_ look if he ever ended up in the hospital or dead. 

So, he types back a quick _what's the catch???_ and waits. It takes long enough that he considers taking some money from his stash and heading into the diner, but before he can, the next text comes back.

_You don't care who I am_ _. B._

That's odd, he decides, but it's a simple request and one he can fulfil. The next few messages are a back and forth of getting the address and what time B wants him to be there for - it's about an hour away, and he asks Archie to be there as soon as he can - so by the time they're done texting, Archie is pulling out of the diner parking lot and heading for the address, following the directions his dying phone gives him.

When he gets there, he sees instantly how B was able to offer him so much. The house is big and fancy, like the previous one, but it's also isolated. It's all white walls and glass walls and he can just about see a pool in the back too, but it's also dark inside, and Archie is fairly certain that he's just set up a deal with a serial killer and he's going to walk into his death. That _should_ have sent him running but he's never been the smartest person, so he gets out of the car and heads up the tan stoned path to the front door. 

Ringing the bell, he has to wait a few moments before it's answered; the glass panel on the wall a few meters from the door shows him that the room has lit up, that someone is coming and he leans back, staring at it, for some time, before he hears the click of a deadbolt, the unlatching of a chain lock, and then, finally, the click as the door is unlocked with a key. What he expects to find behind the door isn't at all what he finds. Mostly, because the person behind the door is a girl.

A beautiful girl, of course. Wavy blonde hair spills around her shoulders, over the black mesh robe she wears and because of the material, Archie can see the red lingerie she has on underneath. It's stark against her pale skin and he's pretty sure he can see the beginning of a scar poking out from the band of her bra. 

"Uhhh..." is all he can manage.

"Red?" she asks.

"Archie." he corrects her, before he realises what he's said.

Her eyebrows raise slightly. "Archie, okay."

"Wait a minute," he says. "You're B?"

"Yes." She nods. "Betty."

"Ohh," Archie laughed, awkwardly. "I was expecting -"

"A boy?" She asks. "Yeah, so did my parents."

He isn't sure what to make of her words, so he just stares blankly at her. Betty offers him a warm smile and opens the door wider, stepping back so that he can come in. The home is a cold beauty, a contrast to her warm beauty, and he kinda feels out of place in the home. It's big and empty and not nearly wide enough for the two of them. It almost makes him want to turn back and run.

"Do you drink wine?" she asks.

"Not really." he answers. "More of a beer guy."

She chuckles, warmly. "Of course you are."

From there, she guides him into what he assumes is the living room, though it's just a big, white room with two white seats, a white two seater, a glass coffee table, and a fake fireplace on the far end. Betty takes on of the seats, reaching out for the bottle of pink wine and the glasses accompanying it. Archie takes the other seat, feeling slightly awkward as she pours out one glass, sets it down, and then pours out the second, of which she hands to him. He really isn't that big of a wine guy, but he sips it anyway, not enjoying the tangy taste, but hoping to please her nonetheless. Though, he isn't quite sure _why_ he needs to please her so much.

"So, what is it you want?" he asks.

Betty chews on her bottom lip. "Companionship?"

"I'm an escort, Betty," he says, firmly. "I don't do... social gatherings."

"Companionship for tonight. Just for me." she corrects.

"No sex?" he asks.

Betty looks at him, dazzling blue eyes boring into his soul. "Are you always this forward?"

"Typically, yeah," he nods. "Most of my clients are... they don't want to stall. They don't do wine and conversation. They just want whatever I have to offer them."

Betty nods. "I'm not your typical client?"

"Most of them are old, closeted men." Archie tells her. "So, no, you're not. And, by the way, I really don't appreciate you lying to me."

She smiles, pink lips rather plump. "I didn't lie to you; I just didn't tell you I wasn't a man. And you _never_ asked. So, there was no lying."

Archie licks his lips, wondering how hers would taste against his own. "Okay, that's fair. Most of my clients are men, I guess that's why I assumed."

She nods, slowly. "If it makes you feel any better, I was assigned male at birth."

For a moment, all Archie does is look at her, before he shakes his head. "I don't care about the gender of my clients. Just that they're satisfied enough to pay me."

"I'll pay you up front." Betty says. "If _that_ makes you feel better."

It's a shock, to say the least. Most of his clients don't actually pay until the deed is over. He supposes it's insurance or whatever, in case he doesn't show or runs as soon as he's handed the money. But Betty is willing to pay him up front, almost as if she trusts him. And it's weird, because he trusts her. He isn't sure why he does, just that he does.

"You can pay me when we're done." he says. "But let me ask again. What do you want from this?"

Betty bites down on the inside of her cheek for a moment. "I've been alone for a long time, Archie. Ever since I came out to my parents... They were never supportive of me. And then my dad was thrown into prison and my mom became this big time news reporter. As soon as she hit the big leagues, she paid for the therapy and surgeries, and all that bullshit, to appease me. And then she throws me away into a big house of my own, so that no one will see me or find me."

"I thought you said you said they weren't supportive of you?" Archie asks, brow furrowed.

"Just because she gave me what I wanted doesn't mean she supports me." Betty points out. "My mom is... complicated."

Archie thinks back to Fred Andrews in Riverdale, who no doubt ran to the police office the moment he realise Archie was gone, who would've spent nights sleepless until he got Archie's letter. And even then, he would've been just as restless until Archie finally managed to call him from the disposable phone they bought - because Jennifer had yelled at him when he'd asked if he could do it, and then she gave in but only if he didn't do anything to get them caught. _That_ was a supportive parent, and he spat in his face. 

But he _can't_ go back to Riverdale. He just can't.

"I'm sorry," he offers. "My mom left when my parents divorced. She lives in Chicago now."

It's more than he's told anyone for years, but if Betty trusts him enough to share, then he can share with her too.

"Where are you from?" Betty asks.

"Riverdale."

There's a twitch in her features. "Me too."

It's weird, yet oddly satisfying to have someone from the same place as him. LA was a melting pot of different people from all over the place, and he had yet to meet _anyone_ who could call themselves a Riverdale native, and yet, here they are. The only two people from Riverdale in all of LA.

"You leave because of your mom?" he asks.

She nods. Doesn't elaborate. "You leave because of yours?"

He pauses. He sees the flash of red on his hands, the taste of copper in his mouth. "No."

"Why?" she asks.

Archie licks his lips. "If you want to get that out of me, you'll need to give me something stronger."

Betty looks at him as if that's the best thing she's heard all night. Standing up from her seat, she crosses the room, going over to one of those fancy drink trays all rich people had. Pulling out a crystal bottle that was, in no way, the bottle the alcohol had been bought in, she comes back over to him but she doesn't sit back down. Instead, she leans down and takes his hand, pulling him up onto his feet, and guiding him out through the sliding glass doors. It takes them out to the pool; it has lights on the bottom that makes it look like the nicest place he could go to kill himself, if he so felt like it, and a few loungers dotted around. Except for one, which has been joined by one of those wrought iron tables, the place is desolate. It's quite obvious from that, alone, that Betty is awfully lonely. It makes his heart ache for her, but he knows he can't listen to it. Not again. 

"I like drinking out here _much_ more than in there. It's too much of my mom for me to enjoy myself." she explains their sudden move. "Out here, I can do whatever I want. It's like freedom, if there's such a thing."

She brings him to the table, taking one seat and without being told, Archie takes the other. On the table are a few empty shot glasses and she picks up two, setting them down side by side as she pours out some of the alcohol. It smells a lot like whisky. Archie has to wonder what had lead her to need something _that_ strong on standby. He wants to ask, to pick at her brain, but it doesn't seem fair. 

"Cheers?" she asks.

Smirking, Archie picks up his shot class, taps it against hers, and together, they throw them back. The taste is terrible and bitter but it brings along a sense of numbness that Archie has gotten used to over the years. When the beer and the sex and the pills don't work, he often turns to something this strong. It makes him forget _everything_ that has happened to him, everything that he's brought on himself and then some. 

Looking up, he watches as Betty tucks her legs against her chest, shifting the pretty bra she's wearing just a little; just enough to reveal another scar. He frowns for a moment, though he doesn't want to ask because it really isn't any of his business. She's a beautiful girl and he figures she's _this_ beautiful because she has a body that matches who she is on the inside, whether or not her mother wanted that for her or not. Some foolish part of him wants to fight anyone who has ever told her she couldn't be who she is, and then he remembers the text she had sent him. She didn't want him to care who she was and now he understands why. 

"I think you're beautiful," he tells her then.

Betty looks at him, profoundly. "What's the catch?"

And oh, does that get to him. He smiles, looking down at the tiles around the pool. He remembers the sting of his scraped knees then. 

"See this?" he points to said injuries. "That's the result of desperation; some CEO who can't out himself, so he hires people like me to satisfy himself. But I'm never enough."

Betty has continued to look at him, lip bitten. "Why do you do this work?"

Archie raises his eyebrows. "You want my sob story?"

"If you're willing to share it." she says.

"Hm," Archie nods. "You can't get it out of me that easily."

She smiles. "You think you're so tough, don't you?"

Archie looks at her. "What?"

"But you're not," she continues. "Because if you were, you wouldn't pretend. All you know is pretending."

He doesn't speak. His deep brown eyes focus on her, his breath coming up short from his lungs. How does she know? How did she see past it all?

She nods then, as if his silence spoke the words for him. "I know because I'm the same."

There's a brief pause as Archie lets out a breath and leans back in the uncomfortable metal chair. He normally wouldn't stay for this kind of thing, but he can't find it within himself to move. And then Betty does.

She unfurls her legs from beneath her, leans over to the wire table and pours out two shots. "Let's play two truths and a lie."

It catches him off guard, but he doesn't question her. "Okay. What's the catch?"

"You drink if I guess the lie. I drink if I get it wrong." she says, pausing for a moment. "You can drink if you don't want to answer at all."

"Seems fair." he says with a nod. "Who's first?"

"I'll go first." Betty decides. "You good at guessing?"

"Not in the slightest." Archie says. "Go."

"Okay," Betty pauses as she refills their shot glasses, and then she leans back. "My mom doped me with anti-anxiety pills for most of my youth."

Archie's eyebrows raise and he wonders if that's the lie, but then he had to remind himself that the game wasn't even halfway done, so he lets her continue without a word.

"Hmmm," Betty hums. "My brother's friend molested me when I was ten."

It's like a shot to the heart; memories of hushed coercion flashing in his mind that almost has him grabbing the crytsal bottle from the table. "Men are shit." he says, instead.

She nods, slowly. "My dad has killed people."

Archie takes a moment to register each of her statements. Each of them seem more and more intense than the last, and he wonders if she would be offended if he guessed the wrong one as the lie. He wants to take a guess but part of him just wants to hear the truth from her, from her pretty pink mouth.

"I don't know." he says. "Tell me."

Betty laughs, warmly and then picks up the shot glass. "Not today, Red."

He watches as she downs it in one goes and a sigh escapes him. He wishes she would have spoken the truth to him but they are still strangers after all; he can't ask anything of her. 

"Your turn," Betty says.

Archie nods. "Alright." There's a multitude of lies he could tell her, but even more truths he could let loose, and now is the time, even if she doesn't believe him. "My music teacher forced me to sleep with her, on many occasions."

Betty's brow furrows but other than that, there's no other hint as to how she feels. "Okay."

Archie nods for a few moments. "I've murdered someone."

This time, Betty remains silent and stone faced. It doesn't worry him so much, so he keeps going. 

"My ex-girlfriend and I only dated so she could piss off her dad." he says.

Betty looks at him for a few moments. He can tell that she's trying to figure out his truths and a lie. After a few more seconds, she shakes her head. "I'm at a loss. Tell me."

As she did, Archie reaches for his shot glass and throws it back. She laughs, softly, as his actions but it's palpable in the air between them; they want to know the truth about each other but neither of them are speaking. So, they just have to life with it.

And then Betty does something Archie doesn't expect her to do; she pulls herself up from her chair and sits on his lap. It's followed quickly by a kiss. His hands are on her waist, her arms wrapping around his neck, her tongue in his mouth. It tastes like whisky and bubblegum and Archie can see her in that blue and yellow uniform, dancing along to whatever song is being sung or played at the moment. He was on the football team for a while; he'd run the field as she cheered for the bulldogs and after he scored the touchdown that won the game, they'd head to the after party before slipping away to fuck in a stranger's bedroom.

But that isn't the truth now, is it? Instead, he's a broken sex worker and she's a broken girl with a mother who hates who she is, and neither of them are happy; neither of them had been happy for a long, _long_ time.

Until now, until they were in each other's arms, his hands sliding up to push the robe from her arms, her voice a whisper in her ear as she gasps out _bedroom, now_, and he's picking her up, her legs wrapping around his waist as he holds onto her tightly. When they're inside, she has to guide him on where to go, but they reach her bedroom soon enough, and with the lights off, all he has is the shape of a bed and a vanity but something about it is so painfully young, so painfully _hey, you're both just twenty one year old kids who need some proper love_ and this might just be their way of getting it. 

Archie places her down on the bed and proceeds to remove his t-shirt. Her eyes are on his torso, the muscles that ripple as he moved to loosen his pants, to drag them down his legs, throwing them aside. Her pink bottom lip is brought between her teeth as he climbs onto the bed, her hands on his shoulders as she pulls him in for another kiss. This one tastes more of bubblegum.

Archie pulls back with a reluctant breath. "Can I taste you?" he asks.

Betty looks bewildered for a moment before she nods. "Yes. I'd _love_ that."

A small smile forming on his lips, he presses a kiss to her jaw, trailing it down her neck as she leans back with a gasp, and then across her chest, down her stomach until he's as her hips. There, he curls his fingers under her panties, dragging them down her legs until he's throwing them off. The sight of her dampening core is enough to rush blood to his own, enough to make him more excited than any client ever as, and he grips her legs before he leans down. Pressing kiss after kiss along her thigh, he hears her soft little moans as he nears her, until he's close enough to taste. And then he does.

Slipping his tongue inside of her, Archie drags it up until he reaches her clit, applying some expertise pressure there that has her gasping out, her legs tensing at his shoulders. He smiles to himself, because he wanted to hear her sound like that, and then he has his tongue inside of her again, licking, and pushing deeper, knowledge gained from less savoury acts guiding him, her hand gripping his air in a way that is _far_ different from his previous client that night. Each moan that slips out of her mouth is a melodic sound, music he could never and had never been able to write. But now he is, it's just that his instrument is no longer his guitar. 

Suddenly, Betty tugs sharply on his hair, pulling his head up and away from her, and Archie looks at her with those puppy dog eyes that he _never_ means to show people.

"No," Betty breathes out. "I don't want to come like this; I want you inside of me for that."

Archie nods as Betty sits up, he shifts back too. Her hands trace over his torso, running down to ugly scar on his hip - she pauses for a moment as she traces her finger over the intricate patter on it before she snaps back to reality and tugs his boxers down. He helps her take them off and allows his semi hard cock to be freed. Her hand wraps around it as she leans up to take another kiss; she begins to pump her hand back and forth as she kisses him, and Archie moans, _whines_, into her mouth as she does so. 

"I hope you came prepared, Red," she breathes out. 

"Always," he answered.

She chuckles, pulls away to reach into her nightstand which she pulls a packet of condoms out from. She rips one away from the strip and then tears it open, bringing the ugly white thing out. Shuffling over to him, Betty presses the tip of it to the head of his cock and Archie bites his lip, holding has breath as she rolls it down over his shaft, in a way that is far more sexual than any experience he's had with the same thing.

"Ah, fuck," he breathes out.

Betty laughs, softly. "Too much for you?"

He smirks back at her. "Yeah, simple touches _really_ get to me."

She smiles at him once more before grasping his shoulders again so that she can lean up to kiss him. Archie tucks an arm around her so that he can bring them back to laying down, her back arched over his arm as they meet her soft sheets. Her arms loop around his neck while he uses his other hand to grasp himself; it's an ordeal lining himself up while still kissing her but he manages it, the head of his cock brushing over her core in a way that has her gasping into his mouth; that sound alone has Archie smiling against her lips. 

Slowly, he slides into her, aided by the lube on the condom and her own wetness. He manages to get all of him inside of her but he doesn't thrust, not right away. She tightens her arms around him, gasping into their kisses, before she takes a break to rest her forehead against his. Her blonde hair fans out around her on the pillow.

"Tell me," he breathes out; he can't take how tight she is around him. "When you're good,"

"Just... give me a few," Betty breathes out, eyes closed as she draws in deep breaths.

Concern floods him then. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," she laughs softly. "I'm just not used to an _actual_ cock in me."

Archie nods, saying nothing while he waits for her to get used to him inside of her. While he does so, he reaches up and brushes a hand through her hair and this causes Betty to open her eyes, teary blue eyes fixed on him. It was in that very moment Archie decided that she was going to kill him and not in the same way Jennifer had killed him.

"Do you really think I'm beautiful?" she asks.

"You are the most beautiful girl I've ever seen," he tells her. "And that's a truth."

She laughs, though it was more of a short breath leaving her. "Okay. I'm ready."

"I'll go slow." he promises her.

And he does, sliding his hips back slowly and then sliding them back just as slow. It draws out shaky breaths from her until they're turning into moans, and even though it's not the fast paced, rough sex that he's used to by now, it's much more pleasurable. His cock feels good inside of her, stroking against the tight walls of her core, and it might just be the alcohol in his system, but he thinks she looks like an angel underneath the moonlight. He leans down and kisses her, deeply and with feeling; feeling that _isn't_ lust. Her hands proceed to tangle into his hair as her legs hook around his waist, and she somehow manages them to control his hips. She's guiding his thrusts now, which makes him feel that much more comfortable, because it means she can tell him when it's safe enough to speed up.

She does just that by squeezing his sides with her thighs and he begins to increase the speed, but not to the _headboard slamming_ kind, just enough that it brings much more pleasure to them; he can feel her throb against him and she can, no doubt, feel him too. His cock slides in and out of her, his moans meeting hers as they don't so much fuck as they do make love. It's not supposed to be like this, they're supposed to be fast and intense, and he should have been gone but now but when Betty tightens her grip in his hair, Archie realises that the hardest thing in the room isn't him anymore, but the fact that he's going to have to leave here _eventually_ and that hurts more than he's willing to admit.

"Oh, oh, Archie," Betty breathes out. "You're... you feel good, amazing, _incredible_,"

A soft laugh leaves him, which is weird, cause he's never laughed in a situation like this. "You need a thesaurus?"

She laughs back, through her gasped moans, and Archie realises that this must be what _real_ love feels like; the carefree feeling of it, being able to laugh with her during sex and then return to their sex, to feel so safe and secure in what he was doing with her that he knows he can't let go. His arm tightens around her waist and she leans up into him, the material of her bra brushing against his bare chest, and Archie knows he's royally fucked now. There's no going back after this.

Perhaps he might just go back to Riverdale and see his dad after all.

Thrusting into Betty now, feels quite like the innocence of his hometown, of not having anything to care or worry about. He loves it, and more importantly, it feels _fucking_ incredible, what with how slick and tight she is, how her hands are tight on his hair, and how sweet her moans sound. There's no way he has ever considered dating since Jennifer, but he knows that if she asked him to stay, then he would. Instead of letting her know this, however, Archie allows his thrusts to get a little faster but longer too, in and out, in and out, his moans hot and heavy as they fall from his lips and into her mouth. 

"Oh, god," Betty squeaks out in pleasure, her legs tightening around him. "Don't stop, don't stop!"

"I won't," he promises her.

He keeps thrusting into her, but now her hips are coming up to meet his and it becomes obvious that they're both thriving in the moment, the pleasure in the room intense as it is good. _She_ is good, her moans and her core and the way her breasts bounce, and maybe he's a little sad that he can't see them since neither of them removed her bra, but he wonders if that has something to do with the tail ends of the scars he saw, but then again, that's not really the focus right now. The focus at the moment is how the space between his crotch and abdomen is tight with pleasure, something that is fuelled by her moans, her wetness, how she tugs at his hair. For the first time, he's going to drive over the edge and it's not going to be a bad thing, it's not going to be in the context it always is with him.

"_Yes_, Arch!" she cries out, their limbs tangling even more so in each other. "Fuck, _fuck_!"

He understands how she feels, though all he can manage is a grunt of agreement, before the air is knocked out of him, and he's spilling out into her. Or, at least, he's spilling into the condom inside of her, and she must have been able to tell, because he feels her hands rubbing over his back as though she were guiding him through it. It's intense, pleasurable, and he's fairly fucking certain he managed to gasp out a _fuck, Betty!_as he came and he's not ashamed at all. 

And even though he's done, his lungs working quickly, she isn't done yet, so he keeps thrusting into her, this time a little harder and a little faster, so much so that she throws her head back against the pillow, her mouth forming a pink o as she cries out in pleasure. The over stimulation pain prickles over him, in his cock, his groin, over his back, but it only takes a few more thrusts before Betty squeezes her legs tightly against him, shuddering out her orgasm as she cries out along with it. Part of him is a little hurt that she also doesn't say his name but it's something that is easily forgotten when they both relax, neither bothering to move for a few moments. 

Her body goes slack against his as Archie pulls out, flopping over onto the empty side of the bed, getting somewhat comfortable on the spot next to her. 

"Here," she says, breathlessly. "Let me help you with that."

He lets out a soft _ah_ as she removes the condom from him, and he watches it as slender, pale fingers knot it and toss it aside, carelessly. She then shifts down, blindly searching for the blanket that she proceeds to tug over them. As she does so, Archie rolls over onto his side. With it being over, he knows that his time here is limited, so he wants to prolong it for as long as he possibly can.

"Worth the money?" he asks.

Betty chuckles lightly before she reaches out and brushes her fingers over his cheek. "Worth the money."

"You know, I -" he begins.

"You should stay." she says and all he can do is stare, blankly at her, before she speaks up again. "The night, I mean. It can't be safe to drive now, and you've had a few drinks. I think you should stay."

"Yeah, me too." he agrees. "I think I should stay too."

And there's something so much deeper to their words, like they're just too lonely kids chasing any kind of relationship that they can, so it doesn't surprise Archie when she shuffles closer, when she wraps her arms around him and pressed her head against his chest. It's been so long since he's had a hug, since anyone has held him like this, that it's just so easy to melt into it. His arms wind around her, his cheek resting on the top of her messed up blonde hair and his eyes close, a soft breath taken in. 

"You're beautiful too, Red." Betty mumbles against his chest. "And you deserve so much better than this."

Archie really can't tell if it's the weird way he's been feeling or not, or if he's just falling asleep quicker than he thought he would, but that night might just be the first night that he cries himself to sleep in a long time. But that's okay, because he's fairly certain that Betty does too. 

☆

Archie wakes up, which is odd in of itself, because it's the sunlight streaming in through partially closed blinds that does it. When he sits up, he realises he's in the same bedroom from the night before, the sun glittering just outside of the window. It must be early, which is fine with him, and he rubs a hand over his face, trying to brush away the grogginess, before he tugs a hand through his hair. He doesn't usually do the staying over thing but more so, he usually does the waking up alone thing, and that's exactly what has happened too.

Looking around, he tries to find Betty but she isn't in the room. From where he is, the house sounds quiet, so he's sure it's safe to go looking for her. 

Getting to his feet, he trudges around the bed to find the clothes that were left discarded from the night before. He dresses himself, not so keen on how badly his stuff smells, but he hasn't been able to change in about two days, so it's _okay_. Running his hand through his hair a few more times, to try and make himself more presentable, he blindly makes his way through the house until he's at the top of the stairs, and then he's heading down them. The place looks less lonely in the daylight but that might just be the presence of two people, instead of one lonely person.

He finds said person in the kitchen, looking down at her phone. She isn't dressed in the way she had been last night, instead wearing a plaid t-shirt and a tight blue skirt. She looks much more youthful like this, with her hair pulled back into a ponytail. It reminds him of how much she must have been through in her short life, and then that thought makes him feel _awful _because it's just _really_ unfair that he wasn't there to help her through it all, and instead he was here for one night and one night only.

"Hey," he greets her.

Betty looks up at him, a smile forming of those pink lips. "Hi. I didn't want to wake you."

"It's fine." he says. "How come you don't look hungover?"

"I'm all about presentation." she jokes.

He smiles at that, before advancing a few steps. "Look -"

"I've got your money here." she says, formally. "I know this must be weird for you, not wanting to ask for it."

"Yeah," he mutters as he takes the stack of money she hands him. He doesn't bother to thumb through it, because he trusts her much more than any other client he's had. "Thanks."

"So," she clears her throat. "Do you leave now?"

"I suppose I do." he says.

There's a hesitancy in the air that neither of them are willing to admit to, to address, and that's the nail in the coffin of them. One simple action has both of them forever lost to each other.

"I'll show you to the door, then." Betty nods.

Archie says nothing as they make their way through the house and to the front door. She reaches for the handle but pauses. It causes him to pause too, to tilt his head to the side and she looks up at him, chewing her lip. He waits for her to speak, but instead, she opens the door. It feels as though that simple gesture has shattered his heart.

He manoeuvres around her and steps back out into the world. He gets down the stones steps that lead to the tan path and he's almost about to walk away, when she stops him.

"Archie?" she asks, stepping out after him.

"Yeah?" he asks.

She's biting her lip now, one hand wringing the other. "Just one thing before you go."

He nods, letting her know that he's listening, that he'll never stop listening.

"I..." she pauses. "My mom never doped me as a child."

It takes him a moment to claw through the memories of the previous night to figure out what she means and then he's nodding in understanding. He wants to pull her close, to apologise for the horrible things the world has put her through, but instead, he remains where he is. The weight of his own truths are on his tongue as he says his final words to her.

"I don't have an ex-girlfriend."

And then, without another word, he leaves.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this and I hope you can forgive me for any mistakes. It's super late for me, so I might have missed some (or a lot). Thank you for reading and comments/kudos are really appreciated!


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